Janus-Faced
by A.K.A. Anonymous
Summary: 2nd PLACE WINNER! 'Angel with a Devil's Face' Contest! (Janus faced--deceitful) Four of the Gundam pilots are captured on an L2 colony where things are more complicated than meets the eye. Have they been betrayed...by one of their own? *Complete*
1. Unforseen Betrayal

Revised 5/02  
Title: Janus-Faced, pt 1/5ish  
Author: AKA Anonymous  
Genre: Suspense, evil pilot?  
Pairings: (background) 3+4, others???  
Warnings: Angst, betrayal?, light pilot torture, spoilers for Ep. Zero, unbeta'd, swearing  
Standard Disclaimers Apply.  
  
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Wufei swore again as they threw down their weapons. The metal artillery hit the ground with a clatter like a mocking applause for their enemies. His eyes swept the encroaching, gun-toting thugs with anger. This was the second time in his short life as a warrior that he had been captured, before it had been out of bullheadedness and pride, this was just stupidity on his part. How could they have been so quickly out-maneuvered by these people?   
  
They looked like regular gang runners, dressed in barely more than rags and dirt. It /was/ the perfect camouflage as they slipped out of darkened alleyways and the abandoned shells of cars and buildings to surround his team. Thinking back, he realized they had efficiently used the littered, rundown and naturally cluttered streets of the L2 colony like a rat's maze to herd the small force into the trap. The lights had already started to dim, spreading deeper shadows that had belied and hidden their enemy until it was too late.   
  
He had not considered their enemy would be so well prepared for their small assault team. He studied the growing group with a hard glare that stopped a few in their progression towards him. They hadn't expected so many weapons or enemies...or that they would use such means of deceit to hide themselves.   
  
Ahead of him, Heero glanced significantly to Quatre, but the blonde shook his head. Wufei tensed further, watching their de-facto leader carefully in case he signaled for them to attack, no matter what the strategist thought.   
  
But Quatre was right and Heero stood his ground, allowing the enemy to circle them and kick their discarded weapons aside. There was no way to retaliate and escape without casualties on both sides, acceptable losses to warriors like themselves, but when the enemy took the guise of helpless civilians...it was too much to risk accidental, innocent deaths. Wufei fought the urge to yell at the injustice of their captors, using such foul tactics. A deep growl drew his attention to the last member of their ensemble.  
  
With his legs tensed and his lips drawn in a sneer, Duo Maxwell looked strikingly similar to a cornered dog. The pilot had lost his usual cheerfulness sometime before they had set foot on the 'silent' colony, but his unusual behavior was brushed aside in light of the recent events. Now, in a strange moment of calm, as their enemies closed into a tight circle, weapons aimed and ready, Wufei wondered what exactly had caused the change.  
  
He had no time to ponder the thought. A sharp, barking laughter lifted over the group of ragged thugs and they parted for what Wufei guessed was their leader.  
  
All in all, the man was handsome. Strikingly golden hair fell jaggedly around the slim features and brushed the man's muscled shoulders. At approximately six foot five, he stood out in the crowd with his tailored black-on-black outfit and well-developed body. Most of his people looked anorexic beside him.   
  
Wufei hadn't picked that up before; not only were their captors dressed like regular hoodlums, but they physically looked it, too. Gaunt cheekbones, thin limbs under bundles of cloth, and pale, yellowish skin were a common trait in most, suggesting poor nutrition. The rags they wore weren't just scrubby, but filthy and worn. Though they held their rifles and various other weapons with proper care, they were skittish and tense, like they had never been trained for situations like this. Were they actually gang members? There were more than thirty on the street within eyeshot, he had never heard of such a large group of street runners in the colonies.   
  
Their leader, on the other hand was confident looking, healthy and better dressed. He didn't look at all uncomfortable with the four captives trying to stare him down. The blonde man's posture was that of a soldier, his eyes were sharp and intelligent, but that alone wouldn't have gained their trust. Trust was life on the streets; it had to be earned time and again to survive--especially in a gang where you had to work together to keep ahead of death. How did he fit in? He wasn't a lower class street punk like the rest of them, but then again, if the others were gang members, they wouldn't have trusted him if he wasn't. That was the way it worked: there were no outsiders. At least, as far as Wufei's limited knowledge of gangs went, but this seemed to be no regular gang.  
  
"Well, well," the man clapped his hands together in feigned delight, "what do we have here? More Preventor spies?"  
  
A chill ran down Wufei's spine like a thousand pins of ice bleeding his hope away just from hearing the confidence of the man's voice. He saw Quatre straighten slightly, the blonde's skin paling further with his own worried thoughts.   
  
"Well, men," the leader turned, thumping a nearby thug on the shoulder, "let's be sure that our guests are shown a proper L2 greeting, shall we?"  
  
It was the only warning they received before the mob was upon them.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Stiffness outranked pain for a moment as Wufei's consciousness slipped back into his body. His back was propped against a cold cement wall, his arms cuffed together in front of him and legs numbed beneath his own weight from having knelt on them for an unknown amount of time. He carefully shifted his weight, allowing blood to flow back to his legs, he flexed the protesting muscle groups in order while the feeling of dead-weight slowly ebbed from his head and legs.   
  
Taking full stock of his condition he found no major injuries and, surprisingly, no broken bones. The knot of pain at the base of his skull--that made the room spin once or twice before he shook it off--where some lucky thug had hit him with something blunt to knock him out, was his only serious injury. And, as he hadn't slipped into a coma yet, he deemed it non-life-threatening, suppressed the pain, and focused on the situation at hand. His captors seemed to want him alive and in good condition, at least--for some reason.   
  
As he took in his surroundings, he found his companions where in similar situations. Quatre's face, though beginning to swell in two or three places, was the only place he could see the Sandrock pilot had been hurt. They'd have comparative headaches when he woke, but if Wufei's theory was correct his condition looked worse than it was.   
  
Shifting his gaze Wufei found flat cobalt eyes glinting at him from across the cell. Heero nodded his greetings and shrugged one shoulder to demonstrate the adjoining extremity had been dislocated. Wufei kept his own hard gaze on the Japanese captive until the other flash a sign with his good hand. No other serious injuries, even by normal human expectations.  
  
Wufei nodded back and flexed all his fingers to the Zero pilot, showing all in working condition, but dropped them as he realized his team was missing one. He shot Heero a glance, but the other could only shake his head in negative. His eyes deadened further than Wufei could ever remember in their years in combat side by side.   
  
He didn't know where Duo had been taken, or if he was taken alive.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Your friends are here," a voice floated around the Gundam pilot. "They're just down the way. So close! And yet so far!" The Other's voice teased his mind into reaction. Pulling him up, away from the safety of black nothingness and into his all too mortal body.  
  
"Wakin' up finally, are ya?" Something prodded his shoulder and he hissed in pain. Pain seemed to be in the very air surrounding him--in every breath, trying to enter through every pore, infusing his body suddenly with the wakening of a thousand raw nerves--threatening to overwhelm his mind with a wave of searing heat. The bitter taste of his own blood was still in his mouth, he slowly became aware of every part of his body down to the sweat that glued him to the plastic covered chair. He wanted to go back to the darkness! He forced his hitching breath to calm, searching for that pattern that brought sleep, but the Other choose that moment to release his wrists from their bindings over his head. Fire flared in his muscles, his joints were pulled down by gravity and exploded in pain, his blood flowed back into his hands like acid and darkness crept into his vision. "Com'on, now. Don't go leavin' the party, yet. Things've only just begun." Water was thrown on his face. He gasped and tried to open his mouth to catch the sweet liquid, but his tongue and lips were too dry and stiff.  
  
After a moment of shuffling he felt something cool, soft and wet pressed to his mouth, the Other pressed gently and water leaked from it. The Gundam pilot sucked at the sponge for a long moment to wet his throat and take the edge off his thirst.  
  
"You don't have to do this," the young man finally croaked out, lifting his head to speak to where his sense of hearing perceived his captor to be. He tried opening his eyes, but his eyelids felt like they were twenty pounds each. He settled for reaching out a hand, instead. True to instinct, his callused fingers caught the slim wrist of his tormentor. "You don't have to do this, Maxwell."  
  
For a moment the blue-violet eyes clouded with emotion. Confusion, pain, and anger ran across the American's face in rapid succession, but his prisoner couldn't see them.   
  
"Yes, Trowa, I do."  
  
The Heavyarms pilot could hear the grief and regret in the Other's voice, but it made little difference as he felt the cold metal of handcuffs wrap around his abused wrists.   
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Looking out over the upturned landscape the colony looked peaceful at first. It was only on closer inspection that one realized there was no movement in the streets, save for a rare stray dog or a bum carrying an assault riffle.   
  
The colony seemed to be divided almost perfectly in two: the slums on one side and the businesses and wealthy on the other. One stained gray, brown and rust, the other deceivingly light and clean. In the midst of the view, though picked over and broken almost beyond recognition, a charred foundation stood alone. And the only ones who could see that view that day were standing on the roof of the tall prison.  
  
"Kid, you've shown your loyalty to the gang beyond a doubt," the tall blonde placed his hands on Duo's shoulders and spoke in a loud voice, filled with confidence. "I admit, I was worried we had lost you to them, turned against your people, but with the capture of those Preventor assassins we've shown that we won't be taken lightly. You've help start the countdown, now we must move on to the next phase."  
  
Duo smiled up at the leader then turn to watch the lights flicker on over the colony. "I knew this day would come. Just like we always said. We'll create a new colony, where kids don't die in the streets from hunger and plague..." His voice trailed off for a moment and he shivered violently. "Just like you promised, right, Solo?"  
  
"Right, Kid," the man smirked. "It'll be just like that."  
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Confuddled? Confused? Confounded? Good! It'll get worse, don't worry! Please remember to review and tell me what an evil person I am. 


	2. Thoughts of a Captive

Title: Janus-Faced, pt. 2/5ish  
Author: AKA Anonymous  
Genre: Suspense, evil pilot?  
Pairings: (background) 3+4, others???  
Warnings: Angst, betrayal?, light pilot torture, spoilers for Ep.   
Zero, unbeta'd  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, it's insane characters, or the twisted plot...wait a minute, that's just *my* story. ****************************  
  
The cell, in size and shape, was like many others Heero had seen or   
been held in during his life. Smooth, gray concrete walls and   
floors, a door that looked like solid steel, and the itch on the back   
of his neck like someone was watching--which was very likely.   
However, the bareness of the cell went beyond that of a normal jail.   
No pallet-bunks were bolted to the wall, no holes were cut into the   
walls for plumbing for water to drink or wash, not even a window in   
the door for the guards to sneer through. An isolation room--only   
he wasn't alone. He shifted his head, scanning the room and it's   
other occupants once again.  
  
Heero studied his comrades carefully, mentally updating his opinion   
of their probability ratings and change of mission perimeters in   
relation to the group's survival. His mind assessed their injuries   
and mental state with an unconscious, practiced ease that annoyed   
him, but also thankfully kept him from focusing totally on the   
failure of the mission thus far.   
  
He was fighting a losing battle with himself, an internal war that   
threatened his self-control from the instant he had realized the   
gravity of their situation. Heero had been trained thoroughly to   
avoid sloppy work that led to capture. He didn't understand what had   
gone wrong, save for the possibility they had been betrayed.   
  
It would have had to have been someone very close to them. Even   
within the Preventors very few people knew of the 'silent' colony.   
To not only have knowledge of the possible rebellion, but detailed   
information on the procedures to put down the uprising from the   
inside...  
  
No one would have known about it but them. The two handcuffed and   
battered with him and their missing comrade.   
  
That was the battleground for his psyche. In the years following his   
dehumanizing training from Dr. J by the brutal orders of Dekim Barton   
he had been able to find a precarious balance between himself and his   
training. Heero Yuy and the Perfect Soldier had meshed firmly   
together years before, but the conflicting emotions--a friend, a   
brother, a loved one, one of his own leading them to this?--was   
almost too much. He had let the walls of his defenses down and now   
he was captured. But not beaten.  
  
Heero still held to hope as he allowed his mind to run all possible   
scenarios for the mole. Who was it?   
  
He shook his head with a frown; all the assumptions and hypotheses he   
could churn out would only be guesses. What he needed was   
information. The threat to the peace was his first priority,   
everything else, even the welfare of his comrades and himself, was   
secondary.  
  
What was going on here, anyway? No information had been available   
from the outside, all communications were lost weeks ago, and so   
their team had gone in blind. Getting in, it turned out, was the   
easy part.  
  
They had infiltrated the colony through an emergency airlock that had   
been left to disrepair as the inhabitants fell into hard times. Upon   
entering their team had found the streets disturbingly empty except   
for the occasional bum sleeping in the ally ways. Quatre had taken   
point, guiding the way to what they thought to be the most likely   
place for the rebels to have set a base: the old government's   
parliament buildings. Heero followed close behind, ready to cover   
their path with bullets, should the enemy make an appearance. Wufei   
and Duo had the rear.   
  
Heero's thoughts backtracked. It was had been surprising when Duo   
hadn't whined about being the last. The Deathscythe pilot usually   
demanded a scouting position, but he had seemed almost calmly   
agreeable to Quatre's plans. Not normal behavior for the braided   
thief, but in light of Quatre's own fiery determination, Heero had   
overlooked it.   
  
And they were all Quatre's plans. The Winner heir had more of a   
tactical mind for groups than any of the others, so they   
automatically left the work to him. Normally the Sandrock and   
Heavyarms pilots would have bantered back and forth about the   
acceptable risks of Quatre's plan, airing out it's difficulties and   
set backs, then settling on something together, but that hadn't been   
the case this time.  
  
When the L2 colony had first fallen 'silent'--a Preventor term for a   
colony whose communications have been cut off in a suspected coup   
d'etat--immediate action had been taken. In order to gain more   
information their superiors had sent in their best spy to infiltrate   
the new faction.  
  
That was the last they had heard of Trowa Barton.   
  
Heero's mind played back their capture in perfect detail; the sudden   
appearance of men, all dressed as if homeless beggars and hoodlums,   
the clicks of guns being loaded, the demand for their surrender...   
Heero's eyes narrowed as the memory progressed to the leader.   
  
It was hate at first sight. He had known in a second that the greasy   
blonde was the leader of the cause, but how the man fit in with the   
situation was beyond Heero's grasp for the moment.   
  
What cause was he leading? The men that had surrounded them, though   
they may have held their weapons well and definitely didn't look   
afraid to use them, weren't up to the normal standards of an army.   
He was beginning to believe that they actually were bums. They had   
no insignia, no means of identifying each other that he could discern-  
-not that he minded, it would only help in their escape--but how   
could they have gotten weapons if they didn't have the means for   
decent clothes? There was too much unknown and that was before he   
added the renegade Gundam pilot to the equation.  
  
How did the rebels know they were there? A spy. How did they know   
the betrayer? Unknown. What did they have on a Gundam pilot that   
would make him turn? Unknown. Who was it?  
  
There was only one person Heero ruled out, 05. Wufei had betrayed   
them once before, but his methods had been brutally open. And when   
their differences had been cleared away, the Shelong pilot had   
attached himself to the Preventors with a loyalty that rivaled only   
his connections to the other four pilots.   
  
He had given each of them a chance of exacting justice for his   
actions directly after the Barton Incident, as a sign of repentance   
and sorrow for his betrayal. Heero had almost laughed at the Chinese   
when he had handed over a pistol and await the judgement; it was too   
much like his own methods.   
  
He knew Wufei would die by his own hand before speaking against them   
again. That left only three possibilities, all of which were far-  
fetched, but remotely feasible, though hard for Heero to process:   
  
Quarte and Trowa could have been working together with the rebels,   
for some reason unknown.   
  
Quatre had sold them out for Trowa's benefit--though that was highly   
unlikely, judging by the Arabian's sense of protection to them   
all...and the fact that he was trussed up like a turkey at the moment.  
  
Or Duo had given them to the enemy; reason unknown. Location   
unknown, for that matter. That worried him more than he'd like to   
admit and, from the dangerous look in Wufei's black eyes, he wasn't   
alone in his fear.  
  
A groan sounded from his left, 04's head bobbed a bit as he fought   
for consciousness. "Where are we? Is everyone all right?"  
  
Heero and Wufei flashed their companion similar, reassuring hand   
signals. The blonde smiled apologetically as he realized they were   
trying to remain silent. It didn't matter, though.   
  
Whether the enemy guards had heard Quatre or they were on orders to   
check the prisoners, the solid metal door jerked open, letting a   
bright beam of light flood into the dim cell. Five men stepped in,   
guns leveled, and motioned for the pilots to get to their feet.   
Wufei and Quatre did so only after Heero had.   
  
Even with his shoulder dislocated, one arm sagging lower than the   
other, Heero raised himself up and faced the rebels with his usual   
emotionless calm. The last guard produced more chains, which were   
linked to their handcuffs, down to their feet where ankle-cuffs were   
added. Lastly, the man grinned as white sacks were held up.   
  
The remaining Gundam pilots stood still as their heads were covered,   
only shuffling forward as the point of the guard's guns prodded their   
backs.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Trowa's eyes had been bound again. He no longer had any sense of day   
or night, no sounds could penetrate the room's thick walls and no   
sensations were there to link his sanity to besides the pain that   
rolled through his body whenever he moved.   
  
The isolation mixed with the on-and-off interrogations was slowly   
stripping his mind of its bearings, so when he heard the door open,   
he tensed. When he heard the jingling of chains he cringed, but when   
he heard the soft tenor voice that had kept his mind intact, he   
almost lost it.  
  
"Trowa!" The Heavyarms pilot let a moan of despair pass from his   
lips, not wanting to believe or hope that the voice was real. His   
mind wanted to believe Quatre was there, but his heart hoped that he   
wasn't. If he was, he had been captured as well. Trowa didn't have   
to wait long to find out which was right.  
  
Fingers tore at his blindfold, yanking it off in near desperation and   
Trowa fought the heaviness of his eyelids as he felt slim fingers   
stroking his cheek. Even before his eyes could focus, his nose   
brought him a familiar scent, his ears caught the well known whimpers   
of distress and his memories of the light touches left no doubt in   
his mind. "Quatre."  
  
His blood-shot eyes caught a wave of sea-blue concern. The blonde's   
eyes were filled with unshed tears, the thin eyebrows were lift in   
worry, but Trowa caught the sharply down turned mouth before Quatre   
could hide it. Shifting his eyes right and left he saw the same   
frowns in the eyes of the others.  
  
"Duo," Trowa bowed his head, "what have you done?"  
  
"02?" Heero's tone was harsh. Trowa looked up and saw the 'Perfect   
Soldier' staring back at him. "Are you sure?"  
  
Quatre paused in his examinations of Trowa's injuries to see the   
shadow of pain flicker across his features. "Yes. He...he was the   
one who...interrogated me."  
  
Horror. The word for the looks on Quatre's and Wufei's faces was   
that of horror. Wufei backed away from them, glancing from Trowa to   
Heero and back, as if he was trying not to comprehend the statement.   
The blonde pilot shook his head violently at his partner, the blue-  
green eyes a wide and unblinking for several silent moments.  
  
"But--but why?"   
  
Trowa shook his head, awakening stiff muscles that bit into his neck   
like piranhas. "I don't know. He didn't ask for much information,   
just kept whispering things to me. Nonsense things and accusations   
sometimes, apologies the next day...he changed..."   
  
The European wavered off for a moment in painful recollection, but   
his voice returned in full force as he brought his head up to face   
his comrades. "I think--I think he's gone insane."  
  
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Thanks for reading! Please review! *Runs off cackling madly*  
--Anon 


	3. Out of the Shadows

Janus-Faced, part 3  
AKA Anonymous   
*******************************  
Even after years of draught, disuse, and the occasional destitute trolling through the debris, the ruins of the building were still standing boldly; charcoal black from the broken ribs of the ceiling beams to the scarred and buried foundation. Fine grains of dirt, dust, and ash lifted in every footstep within the wreckage, leaving a veil of dancing particles swirling in the wake and clinging to the intruder's clothing.   
A solitary figure dared the ruins in the late twilight hours, walking confidently amid the crumbling stones with a distracted air and his face clouded with conflict. As the lights of the 'sky' overhead dimmed into a contrasting gray-gold hue the walker settled to study his surroundings from the cold perch of a fallen statue. One leg was held close to his chest while the other swung carelessly below, throwing a long, flickering shadow across his view.   
/Flicker/ /Flicker/   
His eyes glazed out of focus as the rhythmic movement soothed his confusion, much like the swaying of a mother's arms.   
/Flicker/ /Flicker/   
The colony was incredibly silent, giving his heightened senses a vague unease, but within his mind sounds began to echo among the broken stones.   
The lounging figure took in a sharp breath as ghostly images crossed his eyes, assaulting him with faces and voices that his mind connected to but did not recognize. Little boys running, laughing, tugging playfully on the skirts of a young woman in black; little girls playing with dirty rags, tying them together into crude dolls, giggling at an old man in black who pats each on the head and smiles kindly.   
The man and women in black. The figure felt drawn to them, magnetically, magically, methodically-- irrationally. He came to sit in the ruins of an unknown building to watch their ghosts flicker before him and to feel that strange, haunting ache of belonging before the visions changed.   
They always changed. He didn't understand why. He knew, if only in the blackest corner of his mind, that the events were all in his head--his own doing, somehow--but he still had no control over them.   
Now the little boys shouted, though their words could not meet living ears, their eyes glow with anger and they begin fighting ineffectively against unseen forces. The girls screamed silently, their faces contorted with fear and hate. Now the man was struck down; there was a blinding light... And then the ghosts were gone and Duo was left in the half-darkness of the colony's pre-night, alone among the jagged sticks and charred remains.   
"Why?" the young man asked the shadow-draped wreckage, trying to entice some clue to the mysterious play out of the cold stone. "Why do I feel that I know this?"   
If he had not doubted his own sanity before, the realization that he was seriously talking to rubble might have made him think twice, but he had doubted, so he continued to listen.   
And the burnt heaps did not respond. Duo clasped his other leg to his chest, resting his chin in the valley between his knees and waited. A few minutes pass before a small beeping sound was heard. Slipping off the fallen statue and turning the alarm off on his watch, the boy studied the jailhouse that loomed on the far curve of the colony walls.   
"They'll have escaped by now. I wonder... should I've stop them?" Four faces recalled themselves from the recent memories, each a stranger, an enemy soldier, but also as vaguely familiar as the ghost-children, and each crisply preserved in his mind. He watched the shadows of the night shift the ruin's shapes around him and wondered if the four captive's ghosts would haunt him here, too. "How can I feel like I've known them?" Duo muttered. "It's not...possible?"   
A sharp cry rang out from the ally ways behind him. Duo turned, ready to fight, but a wave of pain flashed through his mind. Not physical pain, but a memory of pain inflicted and also inflicting it. He covered his head with his arms, as if trying to block an attack, and his knees fell from under him. His head swam with images, some he could identify, and others that seemed as alien to him as could be. As if he were looking out the eyes of another. As if he had lived as someone else.   
"Trowa! God, what did I do?" a voice panted, filled with anguish. "What did I do?!"   
Duo wanted to raise his head and look for the speaker, but a cold intuition warned him that there was no one else there. The pained voice was actually his own, the Other presence who shared his mind. "W-who is Trowa?"   
The name. It was so familiar to him; not from his crew nor one of his street friends; it wasn't a gang rival, either. They were all allies now, anyway. Who, then? An outsider? It was said most of them had left or been taken. Then, maybe...one of the prisoners? Their faces were sharp in his mind--lying unconscious in their cell, their tense reunion with their first spy. Duo had seen them from the jail security monitors; he had even worked along side them briefly to gain their trust. Then he had led them right into the trap.   
They trusted him and he betrayed them. Duo shivered at the thought, but beat it down. He had only done what was necessary to protect his crew and bring about the changes necessary. Hadn't he? The conflicted reasoning ran through his brain like fire. Betrayal, loyalty, trust, pain...   
They had said he had to be tested. Why? Because he had...almost turned against them, had been corrupted...but when? How? A wave of intense pain ran through his skull, scattering his thoughts randomly.   
Resentment took hold as his head started to right itself. Why did the Preventors have to come here in the first place? They had finally unified the gangs, they had finally started rebuilding the colony the way it should have been and there was so much more to do! The young man tried his hardest to help his colony, but ever since he had seen the face of the first spy--a boy not much older than himself with striking green eyes that cut to his soul--he felt as if his mind had been invaded... Or maybe before that? Confusion fogged his head and he massaged his temples to soothe his skull, which seemed to be shrinking tightly around his brain. Finally his thoughts came back to order, but his visions and actions were still unanswered.   
"Why wouldn't you just tell me what I wanted to know? Then I wouldn't have had to bring the others; I wouldn't be going insane with these damn visions...   
"I wouldn't wonder why I'm letting you escape, though it may cost us everything."   
Damn it. Who are you guys, anyway?   
~*~*~*~*~  
Heero led their group through the renegade colony's disheveled, silent streets. They moved slowly, cautiously, watching every shadow for their enemies and patiently allowing time for the pained movements of their comrade.   
Trowa leaned heavily on his partner as they slipped out of the shadow of the prison that had held him for just under two weeks. His injuries were surprisingly light, if very artfully painful, and most of his weakness sprung from the lack of exercise and decent meals. Trowa stubbornly insisted that their lost comrade had been the one who had inflicted the wounds on him, but had also bullied the guards into bring him food (a conflict that gave them a flimsy hope); until the last few days, when he didn't come at all. And he now knew why.   
That was when Duo Maxwell had met up with Heero, Quatre, and Wufei to plan Trowa's 'rescue.' Whether or not Duo had gone insane, as Trowa had stated so bluntly, he had played his part as a double agent with ease, delivering them to the hands of the rebels without raising the other Gundam pilot's suspicions until it was too late. The more they knew about his actions, the more they had been left confounded.   
Why had he done it? Why betray and capture them, interrogate Trowa, and disappear, knowing that they would escape? If he had been able to keep up the facade of being their comrade he could have easily anticipated their moves. And yet, there were no barricades, no double shifts of guards, no back up alarms.   
Heero's mind ran through various mental diseases, head traumas, and brain-washing techniques that would result in similar effects, but without more information he couldn't be sure about any, or how to treat them. He wanted to believe that Duo's actions were justified, somehow, but as the small group of Preventors raced through the dead silent city he knew he wouldn't wait for explanations if the other boy tried to stop them. His mission had been sabotaged, but they had not failed yet.   
"Heero," Wufei spoke at half voice to catch the Japanese boy's attention. Quatre and Trowa reached them in a moment, the latter's breathing coming faster than normal, but not out of control. Heero studied the Chinese boy for a moment and frowned at what he knew was coming.   
"We have to get Duo," Wufei whispered forcefully.   
Quatre shook his head uncertainly, his hand unconsciously tightening on his lover's waist. Trowa, though, nodded his agreement. "It's the best way to accomplish our mission perimeters."   
"What makes you think we can find and catch him? He won't come willingly and who knows how involved he really is in this coup," Quatre put in quickly. Yet even as he spoke his anxieties faded in place of rational thinking, ever the tactician and peacekeeper. Fear for his love and their comrades battered at his heart while worry and no small amount of anger lingered for the Deathscythe pilot. He wasn't sure how to act or feel about confronting the God of Death so soon, but he understood that capturing their betrayer would give them a higher rate of probable success when the other agents arrived to plan their assault. He sighed and shot Trowa a glance before grudgingly agreeing, "His capture would be a great advantage."   
Wufei eyed the gray, lamp lit streets. "I know where he is, or at least I have a good idea."   
The three tracked their eyes back to their silent leader. Heero regarded Wufei's confidence and reevaluated each pilot's abilities and injuries. Finally he nodded, giving quick hand instructions that direct Wufei to point position and took the rear himself.   
Trowa slipped out of Quatre's protective grip, gaining new strength from their sense of purpose. He was finally back in a situation he had been trained for--his muscles and mind working automatically from the ingrained skill of a mercenary and soldier. He slipped into the mindset of a soldier like putting on a mask; a comforting armor of detachment and strength that he had learned long ago. One that he hoped would allow him to face his tormentor with his head held high.   
Trowa's eyes lingered on his partner for a moment, reveling in the presence of the person he loved and adding that unique strength to his determination. Quatre's eyes caught his and the blonde gave him a quick smile. He stayed close by Trowa's side, gripping his stolen pistol in both hands now. And, together again, they felt ready for anything to attack from the cemetery-like surroundings.   
With grim faces the group moved into the dwindling twilight to accomplish their mission.   
~*~*~*~*~  
The only sound of greeting Duo received from the escaped prisoners was the slide-click of Heero's rifle cocking. His head dipped in acknowledgement as he lifted his hands, surrendering without a fight to the yet unseen force. As he turned to face his captures his blue-violet eyes caught a beam of residual light and they shown with a flatness that the others had never seen before.   
"Duo," Heero's monotone seemed to carry not only recognition, but a twinge of questioning, also. The five heroes studied each other, four on one side, the last staring back with little sign of surprise or any other emotion. In silence they marked each other's weaknesses and strengths, searching for an opening, waiting for the other side to make a mistake.   
"Gundam pilots," the boy threw back, somewhat mockingly in monotone. "I thought you'd be smart enough to get the fuck out of here while you could. Guess not." He lowered his hands and slid them the pockets of his black slacks. They were the uniform slacks of the Preventors, the rest of the military outfit had been replaced by faded black shirt, a similar style to that of the rebel leader they had been captured by. "So now what? Gonna try and take me?"   
"Yeah," the ex-Wing pilot grunted. His chest tightened at his friend's strangely passive behavior. With Duo's new stance he couldn't anticipate what the braided boy would do next. He wanted to get Duo and get to a safe hideout as soon as possible without any injuries to either side, but it seemed less and less possible with every moment he watched his friend-turned-spy. Then Wufei took the responsibility out of his hands.   
"So, this is Maxwell Church, Duo?" The Chinese boy put his gun in his waistband, knelt down and overturned some of the nearby rubble.   
The American's face clouded, "Stop that." He shook his head quickly, as if clearing it of some unseen fog. "I don't know what this place is; just another lost dream, compliments of the Alliance."   
"The Alliance? They've been gone for years," Quatre spoke, casting a questioning gaze upon their betrayer.   
"Yeah, sure. The Alliance, Oz, White Fang, whatever. They might have a different name, but it's always the same shit. They steal our food and water, take kids right off the street if they can catch them and force them to be soldiers, they rape the colony of everything--resources, people, money, and then they fight their bloody wars and innocent people die," the boy waved a graceful hand at the desecrated scenery. "This is where I grew up, welcome to Jigoku."   
"Finally at home, Shinigami?" Heero demanded with a snarl. "You've lost your mind over this? A pile of rubble and resentment for three factions we defeated together?!"   
Duo stepped back at the venom of Heero's words. For a moment he did nothing but shiver, his eyes clenched shut, but it was enough to worry his comrades. "Have to protect my home, my crew. Finally got things in order, right? This is all I've ever known...," his voice was hardly a whisper, "...isn't it...?"   
Heero, Wufei and Quatre exchanged worried glances as the boy mumbled nonsense under his breath. He seemed to be staring at a blank piece of concrete, but his face was twisted in concentration.   
"Maxwell?" Trowa stepped forward warily, "You alright?"   
The braided boy jerked up right, his face draining of color before their eyes, the large purple eyes were suddenly round with emotion. "T-Trowa?" The eyes remained wide even after they broke away from the European's face. "If you're Trowa..."   
"What's going on, Duo!" Heero commanded with more force, but the boy in black didn't respond. "Can you remember Trowa?"   
The American's face wrenched at the question, his arms coming up to encircle his own body for comfort. "I don't know any Trowa," the voice was flat once again. "You should go. Before I betray you again."   
"You had to be on our side to betray us at first, idiot. Maxwell, you're still one of us--somewhere in that mop-covered head--and we're taking you with us."   
For a moment the Gundam pilots saw the a familiar, devious shimmer in the blue-violet eyes--Wufei's jest seemed to touch a cord of their old comrade--but the moment was swept away as sirens filled the colony. The shrill sounds cut the air abruptly and broke the spell of calm. Shouting could be heard in the distance, but it was barely discernable from the speakers overhead.   
"If you don't go now, you're not going to get out," the Deathscythe pilot offered. In the boy's eyes Heero could see a silent plea for them to flee, but the heart-shaped face was set in determination. Somewhere inside the old Shinigami still wanted them to survive, but the new Duo wasn't sure of them. He hardly seemed sure of himself.   
It was again Wufei who moved boldly and secured a hand around Duo's wrist. "You're coming with us."   
"What, for payback?" Wufei almost let go of the boy's arm in disgust, instead he turned on the American with a fierce scowl.   
"No, you idiot. You're our friend, our comrade; no matter what we won't leave you in the hands of the enemy." With that he jerked the boy forward and dragged him from the ruins.   
The others followed, watching all sides for enemies, but Wufei had stopped again. He turned and forced the braided pilot to do likewise.   
"Do you see that?" He pointed at the black foundation they had come from, "That was what you fought for, Duo. Those people who died in the attacks are what you fought for; this bombing, the brutal force the military used against you, the plague..."   
"That's exactly what Solo's been fighting against, and we're finally making a difference," Duo didn't take his eyes off the dark remains, but his voice sounded hollow and forced.   
"Solo is dead, Duo, he died in your arms," Wufei spoke softly, but his impatience was beginning to soak through. "Whoever has done this to you, it's not Solo."   
Heero silently added his own encouragements but never took his full attention off the dimly it street. Shadows flitted across the alleys, black on black figures that seemed to be insubstantial, but the Japanese pilot knew would prove to be all too deadly. "Enemy at twelve o'clock!"   
The Sandrock and Heavyarms pilots immediately took positions to cover Wufei and Duo from the other side. Their senses were blurred by the wailing sounds overhead and the darkness around them, but they could tell instinctively they were quickly running out of time. The street runners didn't have to be militarily efficient to stumble across their group in the middle of the street.   
"You have to run for it," Duo's eyes moved wildly, his body tense and shivering, "go now, please."   
"Not without you," Wufei repeated harshly.   
"I'm afraid I can't let you take him yet," a calm baritone spoke up from behind. One shadow in the night moved closer--taking on the shape of broad shoulders, black clothing, and blonde hair that fell to the shoulders. The rebel's leader held a gun in his hand, but pointed it at no one in particular. "Kid, I think it's time we moved on to the next phase, don't you?"   
While Duo looked uncertainly from his former comrades to the older man, Heero took the hesitation to his advantage. With a single smooth movement he placed himself before the American, blocking him from the blonde rebel.   
"Duo is coming with us."   
The man's eyebrows moved together for a moment, as if the statement had saddened him, but the look quickly vanished. "I'm sorry it had to be this way," the blonde said with a small sigh. "Kid, listen carefully: you cannot leave with these people. You do not know these people. Your loyalty lies with Solo. The password is 'Blue Rhondo.'"   
"Password accepted," the boy replied immediately in monotone. He gave no other sign of warning before wrapping his left arm around Heero's throat, the other shot from the waistband of Heero's pants to the Japanese boy's head, using the backup weapon that had been hidden there instead of going for the rifle still gripped in the other's hand. Not for long, though. "Drop it."   
Heero spent a half a second thinking of every foul curse and painfully chronic disease he had ever heard of and wishing them upon the blonde watching the scene with a face of nervous impatience. Then Duo's arm started closing around his throat. From the corner of his eye he could see the other Gundam pilots staring in horror, but they made no move to intercede. The risks were too high. He allowed his fingers to loosen and his face flinched slightly as the weapon clattered on the pavement. Duo motioned to the others to follow his example, grudgingly they did.   
The sirens kept wailing in the background, more shouting and a few shots of ammunition could be heard not too far in the distance. Heero studied the gang leader carefully even as Duo shifted behind him. The tall man seemed to get more nervous as the seconds ticked by and the noises from the silent colony rose. The hand that held the pistol pointed in their general direction was now gripped tightly enough to make the knuckles white, the man's blue-ish eyes jumped at every slight movement or sound that could be heard over the speaker's whine.   
When Duo was finally by his side the man set a firm hand on his shoulder, looking for all the world like a father and son should--complete with matching black clothes and the essential accessory for any rebel: pistols to aim at the good guys whilst escaping.   
"You should head for the capital district, your backup should be there soon," and with that stunning news the man threw down a smoke bomb and disappeared into the night. Duo in tow.  
******************************************* 


	4. In the Hands of the Father

Janus-Faced, part 4  
AKA Anonymous  
  
*******************************************  
The capital building was in chaos. Preventors, technicians, and civilians ran about wildly, not even looking twice to watch the battered foursome skirt the crowds and head for their commanding officer.   
  
They were quite a vision, too. Covered with dirt, clothes torn, and hair matted with sweat, not to mention most of their faces were no longer flesh toned, but a rainbow of blues, purples and sickly greens. Had anyone actually studied them closely they would have seen the four faces were carefully controlled masks carved from pain, confusion and anger. The drawn, disheveled figures moved through the bustle with a determination that discouraged such scrutiny though, as they closed in on their final target.   
  
Une was extremely easy to find; she acted as the eye of the hurricane. Her voice rose over the waves of scrambling movement and as her orders kept flowing more people seemed to simply /appear/, ready to jumped to her demands.   
  
Quatre sidestepped a young girl dressed in a ragged blue t-shirt and jeans that seemed to be holes held together by patches of worn cloth--obviously a civilian--but she carried a field medical kit with the Preventor's logo on the side. Several smaller children ran around her, carrying various bundles of equipment, ammunitions and supplies. And for some reason, no one blinked an eye as they slipped out the doors to the streets where gunshots could still be vaguely heard over the sirens.   
  
The more he looked, the more civilians he found carrying out orders just like the officers in black uniforms; carting around cables for hooking up emergency electricity, ground communications equipment was being set up under a supervising eye, and various other chores not usually witnessed by non-personnel. Very strange, indeed, but Quatre placed those questions aside for raising at a different time.  
  
"Satellites are to be reconnected, internal communications are top priority. Get someone to hack the colony's computer--I don't /care/ if it's against the law! I want to know what's going on here!   
  
"I want the tracking systems operational in five minutes, the rescue team will head ou--" her dictatorial speech slurred to a stop as her eyes caught on an area that actually /lacked/ movement despite her commands. She barely batted an eye when Heero gave a weary (slightly mocking) salute.   
  
"Nevermind, have the rescue team stand down; I want Agent Water sent to my office with some medical supplies as soon as her shuttle lands." (1) With that the Commander turned heel and headed for the governor's office, pausing a few moments to allow the Gundam pilots to follow without a double-timed march.   
  
The building, though now thoroughly decorated with spray paint on the outside and methodically trashed on the inside, was still an impressive structure. The grand staircase was an architectural masterpiece of woven steel down to the marble buttresses (rare as gold to the colonists because it was so hard to ship), the thick carpet--where it was not newly stained with unknown substances--was a luscious, deep red, and the luxuries of the governor's office were no exception.  
  
Commander Une seemed to take no note of the surroundings, she walked through the building, straight past the French double-doors with gold-plated handles, and around the dark mahogany desk like it was her own. She didn't wait for her subordinates to close the door or sit down before settling into the high-backed leather seat and pinpointing her demanding gaze on each member of the silent team, in order. Her eyes asked the question they knew would arise first when she got to the end of their row and lingered on the empty space they had unconsciously formed between Heero and Trowa.  
  
Quatre unconsciously straightened under the fierce woman's eyes, but he was at a loss on how to start their debriefing. He was at a lost, in general. His greatest strength to their group was his ability to plan the best strategies by predicting enemy movements and understanding the opposing force's motivations enough to outmaneuver or outwit them. That just wasn't possible here...even if he could control his emotions--which were running mad circles in his chest--there was too much unexplained and inexplicable. And most of it centered on someone he thought he knew well enough not to have to predict his actions, someone he had trusted.  
  
There was no pain in the world like the utter betrayal of a loved one, except the sickening dread that came from the possible causes of that betrayal. How could you break a Gundam pilot? His jaw clenched as his mind flashed various colorful images for his answer, but the truth remained...  
  
"I want to know what the /hell/ is going on. I've never seen or heard of anything like this! My people have been trained to take down terrorists, not street gangs! How the hell did these people get the equipment for--"  
  
"Duo's a spy."  
  
"--this--Who? WHAT?"  
  
Quatre's voice startled even himself. He jerked his eyes off the piece of the wall he had been staring at while at attention and he repeated himself to the wide-eyed woman. Our friend stabbed us in the back, dear Lady. Can't you see how it's killing us?  
  
"Duo's a spy? When did you decide to do that? We've got most of the leaders in custody already, there's no need for him to put himself in more danger--" she stopped, her voice dropping off as she caught the frigid looks on the young soldiers' faces. "How did he infiltrate--?"  
  
"Not for us, Commander Une," Wufei bit each word like it was tearing out his stomach, "for them. He's a traitor."  
  
Quatre's ears rang and for a moment he wondered if he had gone deaf. No one else in the opulent room made a move or spoke a word and the annoying sirens had been turned off some moments before. In the shock and weariness of the recent events it was easy for him to calmly ponder the possibility of sudden hearing loss at less than twenty years of age from only emotional turmoil. After another moment he could make out the beating of his own heart, it was raging against his rib cage, his breath was just short of panting, and his eyes threatened to spill saline. All at a simple word: /traitor/.   
  
The blonde felt a hand entangle with his own and he turned his head instinctively, (slightly upwards and to the right, a pure habit of his heart) meeting Trowa's green eyes straight on. Though the Heavyarms pilot was ambidextrous, his left hand had always had a slightly stronger grip, thus he often positioned himself to Quatre's right. It was an unconscious move that they both drew comfort from.   
  
However, this time, when Quatre's eyes wandered, his throat constricted at the nearly gaunt face and bruised features of the man he loved. He took a deep, shuddering breath at the memories of their reunion, so few hours ago; when he had first attached that simple word to one of the people he trusted and cared for most in the world. But he had never--none of them had ever--actually spoken it aloud.  
  
Traitor. Duo. But was that the whole truth?  
  
"That's impossible," Commander Une pulled her head back defensively at the deadly looks the four men shot as she stubbornly pushed on. "I was in contact with Maxwell just over...four hours ago."  
  
He could feel the blood rushing out of his face, disbelief was clear in the faces of his comrades as they exchanged quick glances. This time it was Heero who spoke out, his voice fluctuated with emotion much more than Quatre had heard in a long time--if ever.   
  
"We escaped from where he had been holding Trowa prisoner these last two weeks just under /three/ hours ago. We ran into him, but he...wasn't himself. He recognized /what/ we were, but not /who/... Then he escaped with the leader. A tall blonde man, dressed in black, maybe going by the fake name 'Solo.'"  
  
"'He wasn't himself?'" Lady Une repeated thoughtfully, then silenced any further explanations with a sudden wave of her hand. She drummed her fingers on the well-polished desktop, thinking quickly and finally stood quickly. "I want you to see something."  
  
She ignored their questioning looks and called out of the room. A technician--or at least an able-looking young man in a blue jumper and wires sticking out of every available pocket--was soon head to head with the woman. He nodded at her quick directions and moved to the desk. With a few buttons pushed and the right keys pressed, the man had the computer and tele-console running; more difficult was the man's efforts to access the Preventor's online archives from the strange computer. (2)  
  
Ultimately, though, he was successful and took the Commander's thanks with a bright smile (which faltered at the coldness of the room's other inhabitance), then took a hasty leave.  
  
Une turned the tele-console towards the four remaining pilots and spoke as she worked busily at the computer, digging through the Preventor database quickly to find her prize. "All communications during missions are recorded and stored in case of acts of sabotage, corruption, law suits, and such."  
  
The monitor facing them suddenly flared to life, a familiar face frozen upon it with a striking smile that had been missing from the real life version for some time. It drove home how much the other young man had changed in the last few weeks. He was dressed in a faded black shirt and black slacks...was Une showing them the communication from earlier that day?  
  
~Oi! It's Maxwell here! We're going to need some back up down here.~ Duo's voice was back to it's light-hearted tone and the smile was still plastered on.  
  
**Agent Maxwell, where is your team leader?** Une's disembodied voice was also her same no-nonsense tone, making the image of Duo wince.  
  
~Heero's a bit tied up with the bad guys at the moment. Don't worry, we're all okay. We're getting Trowa out in less than an hour; we'll need a distraction a little after that. I think an all out attack would be sufficent.~ Duo grinned.   
  
Quatre's brow furled as he realized how much he missed that pure-hearted smile. Within his own worried world, in the two weeks when Trowa had been gone, he had become blind. In the few days Heero, Duo, Wufei, and himself had spent preparing for the small assault/rescue mission he hadn't realized that that key part of the America's image had disappeared without warning. He /missed/ it now and seeing it for the first time in months on a flat screen was a knife to his heart.  
  
**What exactly have you gotten yourself into?** Commander Une's voice had a slight sarcastic ring to the end. All she knew was that she was dealing with the most rambunctious of the five Gundam pilots at a crucial time in their operation. If she had known his actions on the colony surface, who knows what her tone would have been?   
  
~Oh, come on!~ the boy whined playfully. ~You guys shouldn't have too much trouble rounding up the bad guys. Gathering the evidence is going to be a much more wracking job.~  
  
Not waiting for a response to that he continued, seemingly at an increased speed. ~The gangs have united, not too big a deal, but most of them have been trained by one army or another over the years. The Alliance and Oz seem to have taken to using street kids as canon fodder. They know how to use their guns. Oh, their artillery's compliments of Rendwell, Inc. and Tom Johanson, by the way, check the governor's private accounts for the money transactions; he was helping store the weapons on the colony so we couldn't find them in a search-and-seizure of the cooperation. Great huh?--  
  
**Une's sputtering was heard, but Duo didn't pause**  
  
~--But most of their stuff has been sabotaged, thanks to some friends of a friend. They'll be dropping by so let them do what they want, they've earned it. Oh, gonna say 'hi'?~ Duo smiled at something off screen and footsteps were heard. A new figure hunched over the console screen, also smiling.  
  
Pure hatred rolled off the pilots in waves as the blonde man placed his hand on the shoulder of their comrade, but the surprises didn't end there.   
  
**Anderson?!** Four eyes shot to the present Une's face as her recorded voice continued, **What the /hell/ are you doing there?**  
  
~Just helping out some friends, Miss Une.~ Anderson replied, kindly if obliquely.   
  
**I didn't even know the two of you knew each other.**  
  
The blonde's eyebrows arched upwards and he chuckled a little as his eyes met Duo's. ~Maxwell? I've known him since before he even had a name to call his own. Right, Kid?~  
  
The recorded Duo--true to their memories--stuck out his tongue at the older man, and they both laughed. But his smiled faded quickly and his tone turned disturbingly serious, ~Well, we've gotta go... Good-bye, Commander Une.~  
  
**Good-bye? Duo?**  
  
The recording ended with Duo's pale hands moving to his head.  
  
Duo said 'Good-bye?' He never said good-bye. Even in the wars it was 'See ya' (in hell, if you were on the wrong side of his scythe) or 'Ja ne' to annoy Heero--in a moment of seriousness he'd whispered things like 'So this'll end everything?'--but never that.  
  
"What the HELL is he--has he--was he doing?!" Wufei exploded at last. "None of this makes sense! Every new clue we find sets us two steps back! Is Duo a traitor or not? Who the hell is that guy and why were the gangs following him? If he's their leader, why did he give them to us on a silver platter?"  
  
"I think this is all connected to Duo in some way. Just instinct, but it feels right," Trowa answered, though he was just as disoriented as his companions. Or maybe that was his body finally shutting down. Either way he dropped his death grip on his lover's hand and wandered to the circle of chairs that had been ignored until now.  
  
"Something's happened to him, brain washing or control of some kind, that's for sure, with how Anderson used that password to get him to escape. It might also explain his behavior, somewhat." He slowly lowered his body into a cushy leather chair and allowed his shoulders to slump as he tried to mentally pull the conflicting events into order. It felt like physical labor, his thoughts became more muddled and less substantial as the meeting wore on. Little did he know what rude awakening was waiting for him.  
  
"Where do you know this Anderson from, Commander," Heero's voice was steel and his sentence wasn't poised as a question.  
  
The sudden silence of the speakers after almost three hours of blaring noise was a blessing to the Preventors and colonists alike. Unfortunately, because of the completeness of the silence, the Gundam pilot's voices carried even down to the streets.  
  
"FATHER?!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The shuttle looked frozen in orbit to the naked eye, but there was no one in sight to see it. If someone could have ran a scan of the ship they would have seen some very interesting things--decoy buoys, light artillery, and the Preventor signature would draw anyone's curiosity--/if/ they could see it. As it was, though the ship was undetectable to machines and hidden in the shadow of a nearby, rundown resource satellite, but close enough to the rebel colony to pirate the Preventor communications without being detected. Perfect, in Maxwell's opinion.  
  
"Sounds like everything has run according to plan, Solo," Anderson sighed, stretching his stiff muscle as much as he could as they protested the long hours spent in the small craft.   
  
The boy next to him smiled sadly and shook his chestnut topped head. "Sorry, Solo's gone now. As much as I once cared for and admired the old friend of that name, I can't stand it anymore."  
  
"So you took the medication already?" the older man looked at him in genuine surprise and was faced with a sly grin.  
  
"What? You think I'd suddenly start singing 'The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Music?' Sorry, Anderson, but I've had a lot of dealings with these multi-personality disorders and the treatment doesn't necessarily make the world a more perfect place," Duo half-joked. "Unless you /liked/ that psycho?"  
  
Anderson shook his head quickly, putting his hands up in mock defeat. "No, thank you! You're hard enough to deal with without you forgetting who I am and freaking out every five minutes." The man continued to study the longhaired pilot with a worried expression. "Are you sure you can control him? Even if the medication turns out not to work?--God, I don't know why you let them play with your head in the first place!"  
  
Faster than the eye could move, the boy placed a firm grip on the blonde's arm and they stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. "I did what I had to, you know that. The governor wouldn't have let me near the guns without some kind of proof that I was loyal to you, same with the gangs. Now they're both being taken down; one false swoop, as they say. We have to trust that the Preventors will handle the work of taking down Johanson, at least, and pray that the fat-ass politician kept his files detailed enough to finger Rendwall as well!"   
  
The American man caught the worried gaze of his companion and continued in a softer tone. "We all have to make sacrifices for the good of the cause, right? Your cause to help the lost children of humanity--the crews of L2, especially--for which, I am eternally grateful and just /happened/ to coincide with mine." The older man shook his head, waving off any thanks. "Stopping weapons manufacturing and distribution is all I've got to live for these days. If this works out, my cause will be that much secure."  
  
"Was bring them down worth all that you've sacrificed, though? I know how much it hurt you to betray your friends; even if they repressed your memories so far that it split your personalities even farther. Maxwell--"  
  
"I created the image of Solo for three specific reasons. One: to do what I couldn't do, even under mind control: betray the other Gundam pilots and lead the Preventors to L2 at the appropriate time when the unification would begin to break apart on it's own. The risk of casualties was lowest that way, especially when you enlisted the crews to sabotage the weapons in storage. Two: was to gain the trust of the both the arms dealers and the gangs by 'breaking'. For a Gundam pilot they wouldn't have settled for anything less. And finally," he wound up with a small smile, "full filling my promises to the ghosts of my past.  
  
"So, you see, it wasn't such a huge sacrifice, really. The damn guy just got out of my control when I was too confused to know what was happening. The most painful part of Solo's persona was not being able to stop him from hurting Trowa," the boy's eyes were brimmed with tears and he cracked his knuckles loudly, wincing at each painful pop.  
  
Anderson sat silently, not knowing what to do to comfort the young man, just watching the stars twinkle until he couldn't stand the quiet anymore. "So, /when/ are we heading back?"  
  
"Are you nuts?" the boy scoffed. "Heero has probably got most of this figured out yet, but all the important stuff is just between you and me. He thinks /you/ kidnapped and brainwashed me. You do know /who/ Heero is, right? The Perfect Soldier? He'll shoot you first and ask--no, wait, he'll just shoot."  
  
"Sounds charming," Anderson smiled. "We're still going."  
  
"I don't think--"  
  
"I /know/," Anderson cut him off sharply and fixed a hard look on the jokester, "what you're thinking, but I can't work with the Preventors plastering my wanted posters all over the colonies. I do have a reputation to keep, you know." Duo sputtered out a few sounds, but Anderson would not give up his speech. "And you've got to close the wounds you've caused before they fester, Maxwell."  
  
Duo shook his head childishly in response.  
  
"Duo, you're friends deserve the truth. A lie of omission is still a lie; remember your promise to Father Maxwell."  
  
The boy pouted and grunted angrily.  
  
"I didn't hear you, Duo."  
  
"Yes, /Father./"  
  
"That's better."   
*************************************  
  
Notes:  
(1)-Thanks to Sabrina (Mistress Yuy) and Kawaii Shinjyo for Sally's Preventor code name!  
(2)-Okay, I'm technologically-retarded. I don't know if a technician would actually be able to do this or not. I'm basically thinking Chief O'Brien, from ST:DS9-the guy who could do almost anything, you know? 


	5. Duo, Solo, Shinigami and Maxwell

Janus-Faced, part 5  
AKA Anonymous  
  
**************************************  
Morning had come without notice to anyone in the government building, but the short-tempered soldiers enclosed in the governor's office especially ignored it. Even as the frantic pace of work dropped off as more help arrived, civilian or Preventor; the field team leaders wandered in from a stressful night of chasing criminals all over the colony to make their reports to their Commander; and the colony's communications were up to fifty percent; it was an unspoken agreement that the office was dangerous territory. Off limits, unless called for, then enter at your own caution. An invisible line was drawn around the door and people walked as quickly and quietly as possible passed it only when absolutely necessary.  
  
The yelling had stopped several hours ago, but that was no guarantee of anything. They all knew that the room held five of the highest ranking and most deadly military minds of their time, and they were pissed at something. That was all the Preventor Agents needed to know, the civilians (especially the crew kids) walked on egg shells--easily frightened and always ready to bolt--but that didn't stop them from scavenging the Preventor storage.   
  
The agents raised their eyebrows and watched them slip things (almost anything besides weapons) into the thin rags they wore without it showing, then, under Commander Une's orders, they watched the kids slide back into the alleyways. When another loud crash sounded from the office, some Preventors reverently wished they, too, could slip away.   
  
Three more computers had been dragged into the room and set up; Wufei, Quatre and Heero now joined Une's rhythmic typing as they scoured both the Preventor's database and the colony's in their search. They were frustrated and far beyond irritated with the machines and each other, but the three working pilots refused to take a break and get some rest. Even as busy as the last two days had been, running on no sleep and little sustenance, the young men demanded the chance to troll the databases.  
  
Perhaps it was the flimsy hope they held onto that Duo's actions were not his own doing. Perhaps it was some overactive drive to accomplish something useful when they felt so helpless, or a hundred other reasons that weren't even known to them, but buried in their subconscious where they hid their pain.  
  
Only Trowa wasn't working at a computer terminal, several of his fingers had been dislocated or broken while under Duo's interrogation, but he prowled the office like a wild beast. Every now and then he'd pause to study his comrade's screens over their shoulders and though he didn't speak much he let his thoughts be known with broken vases, crystal whiskey glasses, and anything else expensive and not bolted down in the office.  
  
They had found quite a bit of information in the secret files in the governor's computer (they were encoded, password protected, and hidden, but not nearly well enough) and the five now had a working theory.   
  
For years the various military installments, that the colonists had been subjected to in a dictatorial manor, had run 'drafting searches' in the streets. The soldiers would snatch up as many young men and women as possible and ship them (against their wills) to a training facility on an orbiting satellite or even down to Earth. They were trained in only the basics before being tossed into the frontlines; the few that survived the wars were shipped back and thrown onto to the streets once again.  
  
Hence, the bums could hold their weapons, they might even shoot them somewhat decently, but they were extremely lacking in discipline and focus. Which was what lead to their downfall.  
  
Somehow Duo and Anderson had set up the leaders of the most powerful gangs to declare a truce. At the same time, as far as Une and Wufei could puzzle out, the two were also leading the govern on, making him believe that the gangs would be wiped out, if only they had the machinery for it...  
  
Which led to Tom Johanson. If the governor been any more thorough about his paperwork in dealing with the notorious arms dealer he'd have had to have done DNA tests. Even scrap of paper was scanned, even money transaction recorded, time, date, amount, exchange value, etc. The man was practically obsessive compulsive about his illegal activities.   
  
However, the paper trail floundered a bit as they tried to link the weapons from Johanson to Rendwall, Inc., as Duo had mentioned. Still, it was much more than what they had tried to use against the dealer and the cooperation before.  
  
Trowa sank down into his leather chair again, the exhaustion of his adrenaline roller coaster ride was finally getting to him again. He leaned his head back against the chair and allowed his eyes to wander the pattern his feet had circuited around the room, watching his friends' faces carefully.  
  
They had divided the work in two groups: Wufei and Une searched the colony databases while Heero and Quatre hacked their own system. Commander Une was not happy about the term 'hacking', but since technically their search should have been handled by private investigators who had no connections to the Preventors, thus giving an unbiased analysis (and probably getting Duo into a nice 6x6 cell), she turned her head while Heero broke through every security measure they had with great ease.   
  
Heero's face was blank of emotion as his eyes moved rapidly over his screen. His hands were clenched in his lap and he hadn't so much as shifted an inch after he had set his search program into effect. Even when Trowa had thrown the whiskey tumbler, after all the glasses had been used, he barely blinked. All his attention was focused on the scrolling files of security information, searching for some recent connection between Duo and the blonde man, Anderson.  
  
Wufei's and Une's searches had turned from trying to fit Duo's role in the colony coup d'etat to finding all the evidence they could. Their faces were serious, but each had a singularly smug facial characteristic that only a close acquaintance would have been able to identify. Wufei's mouth twitched slightly in the left corner, a sure indication of his confidence of victory. Une, on the other hand, smiled openly--and quite evilly. Trowa half-expected her to throw her head back and cackle at any moment.  
  
Quatre's face was perfect. It always was, in Trowa's opinion, though to be /really/ perfect he'd need to wipe that smear of dirt from his nose--a shower for all of them would have been very beneficial, but such a suggestion at that place and time, even from the President himself, would have been pointedly ignored. The auburn-haired man studied the blonde with a tiny smile as the other's bow mouth was drawn in a small pout of concentration as he typed away at the keyboard, but he soon paused to look up. The two made eye contact immediately and Quatre immediately cast his lover a flat gaze that distinctly read, 'Get to sleep, idiot.'  
  
Before the look could be voiced, though, there was a polite knock on the door. No one would be bothered to open it, but that didn't stop the person on the other side. Five looks of surprise, four looks of disappointment and a final glare (from Heero) welcomed the newcomer as he calmly stepped into the hostile environment.  
  
Zechs Merquise was not one to be intimidated by mere looks and he moved about the room like the four of the five people in it didn't resent his interruption.   
  
Heero made sure the resentment was /very/ clear, just in case. "What do you want, Wind?"  
  
"I had heard," the blonde's smirk widened when Heero didn't so much as turn his head from the computer screen, "that the Gundam pilots were going insane and I had to see for myself."  
  
Trowa's jaw clenched at the blonde's familiar prodding. This time, however, the nobleman had no clue how close he was to the truth--until Heero's chair flung itself backwards and the Japanese boy was an inch from his face in the blink of an eye.  
  
"Zero-one! Stand down!" Une was on her feet as well. Quatre and Wufei watched, their hands held within inches of their hidden weapons. After a moment Heero stepped back, murder still in his eyes, turned heel and picked up his chair to watch the files scroll.  
  
Zechs looked slightly paler as he tried to shake off Heero's bizarre behavior. He saluted and addressed their leader. "I'm to report that most of the rebel activity has been put down, communications to Earth have been restored and there was an unknown shuttle craft that landed about an hour ago. The passengers are now in our custody and are being escorted directly here."  
  
"Here? I don't have time to see anyone at the--"  
  
"Apparently," Zechs interrupted, "the shuttle was Preventor issue and the two are dressed as priests."  
  
A dropped pin would have been an explosive sound.   
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
In the next hour the tension from the four Gundam pilots had infected the building. Veterans who had seen combat face to face, who had killed with their bare hands, and slept with a gun under their pillow became jittery in the presence of one of the pilots as they set up an impromptu interrogation room. One that didn't involve various forms of physical persuasion, as the rebels had for Trowa.  
  
Dr. Po had arrived within the preparation time and fixed her own glare upon each boy. They took turns being looked over and making people scramble to have the necessary equipment set up in the small room. Sally made several very loud protests that any of them should be allowed to continue, as exhausted as they obviously were, but her demands were swept aside. Nothing anyone said would stop them from facing their betrayer.   
  
When Sally had heard /who/ their betrayer was her protests died for a few moments, horror took her breath away, but then put down one final command: Trowa could watch the questioning, but only from a video feed in the field infirmary. She put her foot down as the young man swayed on his feet and as his superior officer; he could not disobey the order. With one chaste kiss for Quatre, he allowed himself to be led away, glancing backwards just in time to see the motorcade pull up.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The two men dressed in black walked together through the capital building without a word. The younger kept a small smile on his face and nodded congenially to the familiar, confused faces in the crowd while the older's face was downcast with worry.  
  
"Father Anderson," Duo looked his companion in the eyes, "everything will be alright. Tell them /everything/."  
  
The man nodded and followed the uniformed Preventors to a separate room, he was quickly lead to his own interrogation chambers.   
  
The cream colored walls ruined the stoic effect that was usually characteristic of such rooms. It was small enough, though, making the walls seem that much closer and closing in fast. Especially with the amount of people already sitting or lounging around when he was escorted in.  
  
Zechs Merquise had volunteered to oversee the questioning while Commander Une and Lieutenant Noin had seen to the other. A little uneven, but no one was going to tell that to the stony faced boys studying their ex-comrade with unreadable expressions.  
  
The braided boy said nothing, but took a seat and stared at the table top while he wait their demands. The tiny smile he had kept on for the Father's sake was gone, in its place was a small guilty-looking frown, like a child who stole the last cookie.  
  
"Duo," Quatre's voice wavered, "ho--? wh--?" The sea-blue eyes filled with tears as he tried to find the words that would help him understand what had happened to their happy-go-lucky friend.  
  
"Oh, Cat, don't cry," Duo bit his lip and his eyes flickered around the room, coming to rest on the scarf of Zechs' jacket. A moment later Quatre had the scarf in hand, Zechs looked both stunned and angered, and Duo was sitting down once again. "Come on! I'snot that bad, is it? I mean I've pretty much fucked up my chances at a prom'tion, but everything's okay, right?"  
  
Panic entered his eyes as he took in each face and bolted out of his seat. "Trowa! Trowa's al'right, isn't he? Oh GOD! Where's he?! I didn't mean to! I di'nt mean ta! I swear! I din't mean ta hurt anyone!"  
  
Four pair of eyes followed the shaking, babbling boy as he paced the room, apologizing profusely to the each of them, even Zechs a few times. They were so stunned to silence at the Deathscythe pilot's hysterics that they almost didn't catch him as he bolted for the door.  
  
"I have ta see 'im! Pleeease!" Duo thrashed against Zechs' taller frame as he held the young man in a bear hug. Wufei and Quatre moved around the table to help when they heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.   
  
"Maxwell, don't make me kill you." Heero's weapon was pointed between the blue-violet eyes and the boy immediately slumped, almost knocking Zechs over with the sudden change of weight.   
  
"If I have to be killed, it's destined to be by you," the boy's mouth was split with a smile as his head came up. He looked over his shoulder to eye the taller man holding him. "You know I love you, Zechsy, but not like that."  
  
The man practically flung the boy out of his arms. The ice-blue eyes glowered coldly at the impish face, but the young man was already sitting back down, facing the other pilots like Zechs had popped out of existence. "So, shall we get down to business?"  
  
Three sets of eyes blinked at him.   
  
"Come on, Heero, put the gun away," he admonished jokingly. "You know, for being the Perfect Soldier, you don't know how to run an interrogation."  
  
"And /you/ do?" Wufei asked viciously.   
  
The braided boy's faced filled with pain for a moment before the fake smile was applied again. "No, I don't, Wufei."  
  
"You remember us now," Quatre asked softly, trying to find the right thread to start unraveling the mystery without them having to draw weapons again. "Why now? Why not at the ruins?"  
  
"Oh?" the boy looked genuinely surprised at the question, "you hadn't found that part yet? It should have been in with the medical reports, in the governor's files? Anyone?"  
  
Wufei shifted and grudgingly admitted, "I found various medical reports, but left them for a professional to go through. I didn't realize they were yours."  
  
"It's all right," the boy shrugged. "Probably better this way, anyhow." He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together.  
  
"How much do you know about passive-regressive brainwashing and MPD's?"  
  
"MPD?" Zechs eyebrows dipped in apprehension.  
  
"Multiple Personality disorders," the boy supplied. "I have it, by the way." He grinned.  
  
Wufei's faced paled beneath his tan skin. "Maxwell?"  
  
The boy's grin turned somewhat evil. "Nope, great guess, though!"  
  
"Duo?" Quatre asked hesitantly.  
  
The boy made a face. "I don't get along well with that pissant. Strange, ne? Of course, if he had been stronger I wouldn't have been needed in the first place."  
  
"Quit playing these games, Zero-two!" Heero's hand twitched towards his gun again, "What are you talking about?"  
  
Duo's persona winked at him. "Well, in order to...oh, boy where to start." The heart-shaped face clouded in thought for a moment, the grin finally fading.   
  
"Hm, the Preventors had been trying for months to catch Rendwall as a weapons manufacturer when I happened to run into an old friend, Father Anderson, at HQ--he had just finished with updating Une on some situation on a different colony. (He's quite a gossip for the underside of the colonies, but a real soft heart for kids; makes a great informant.)" The boy leaned back and calmly studied the faces before him. "We began working out a plan that would be mutually beneficial; I'd get some evidence pointing to Rendwall, while he'd get some attention for his missionary work in the colonies. Tricking the gangs into unifying was just an after thought; they lean pretty heavily on the little kids, plus it ups the degree of charges against the dealer.  
  
"The biggest problem was deceiving the necessary people into thinking I had turned against the Preventors and was on the take. My companion was able to unite the gangs, telling them that once they had control of the colony, they'd be in charge of all food lines and water supplies. It was an opportunity they couldn't resist, especially when we showed them the weapons.   
  
"The governor was already on the take, as I'm sure you've found, hiding several shipments of guns in his private warehouses so they were out of the way in case the Preventors came against Rendwall's. My lot in the deal with him was to make sure the goods hadn't been damaged during shipping and to keep the Preventors off the scent."  
  
"You've been sabotaging--!" Wufei shrilled, but was stopped by a hard grip in his arm. Heero's hand, which could have easily broken the bones with a twist, remained there, loosening slightly to allow blood to flow, but obviously not taking the chance that the Chinese boy would remain quiet without encouragement.   
  
"No. I didn't have time to in any case, the gangs got out of control too quickly. They overthrew the governor and cut the communications before I could stop them. Next thing I knew, I was facing Trowa in a jail cell, only I didn't remember him. It wasn't really me." He looked directly into Quatre's eyes. "Tell him, I'm sorry. I know it's probably not enough, but..."  
  
Duo's face was held in anguish for a long moment, but his shoulder suddenly loosened and the jester's smile came back. "God, I'm so fucked up!"  
  
"Huh? /Now/ who are you?" Zechs was getting a headache from trying to figure out which Duo was the one he knew.  
  
"Same as before, Zechsy-kun!"   
  
"So you're the third personality, right? How many do you have?" Quatre asked, his politeness wearing off as his weary mind tried to take in all he had been hit with in this one sitting.  
  
"Oh, Q's got it! Seriously, people, I've known you all this time and--I'll give you that I was /never/ this separated before--you can't even guess?" the blue-violet eyes twinkled. "I'll give you a hint: I have a pretty well balanced imbalanced psyche. You've got the childishly hopefully /idiot/--"  
  
"Duo." Heero supplied.  
  
"--the serious, cautious, (mildly depressed) but very smart guy--"   
  
"Maxwell?" Quatre guessed.  
  
"--and," he spread his hands wide, "the protective, ass-kicking, joker persona. Come on, you lucky bishounen, I've given you /plenty/ of help!  
  
"Shinigami," Zechs said with a disgusted snort.  
  
"Oh!" Shinigami threw his hands up in mock despair. "And the ex-arch rival gets it!" He slouched in his seat and began drawing invisible lines on the table. "I'm mildly disappointed."  
  
The four Preventor Agents exchanged several looks; each had no ideas as to how to proceed.  
  
"So, how come we never knew about your personalities before?" Quatre asked curiously.  
  
"Ah, the thing is, I was created by Stupid a long time ago and I use to only come out when absolutely necessary, then Maxwell came along and the two of them took over pretty much 'til the wars started. Then we all kicked Oz tail. You see, my other selves were less aggressive until I let those bastards play with my memories.  
  
Big mistake, let me tell you! They tried this memory-repressing brainwashing technique that didn't work--in fact, it made me even more volatile and gave me a somewhat psychotic alter ego. Turns out that my personalities are directly linked to my memories, trying to repress them is like splitting your soul. I wound up forgetting the most important things at the worst times, then, in the confusion, Solo would take over."  
  
"Solo? The leader of your gang?" Wufei questioned.  
  
"/Crew/, we call the younger groups crews, they scavenge for food and water. Gangs fight for territory and are much more aggressive, they're usually teens and above," Maxwell explained with a kind smile. "And, yes, Solo was the name of my friend. But he was nothing like the bastard my brain created."  
  
"What..." Zechs started, but faltered, uncertain how to ask his question.   
  
"I took a powerful neuroleptic, an anti-psychotic, specifically designed to eliminate the effects of my treatment. It was a little risky, with my brain scrambled like eggs, to know what personality would come out on top," he grinned and smiled, "but I think the good guys have won."  
  
Heero let out a distinctively sarcastic snort and Wufei fought to keep his smile down. Quatre's and Zechs'  
gazes met and they rolled their eyes with a smile.  
  
"I think it'll be up to the courts to decide who is the good guy," Commander Une spoke from the doorway. Her face was soft with sympathy, but her eyes were hard with the strain of duty. The two officers who stood behind her moved forward to place handcuffs on the young man's wrists. One gently pushed his hands behind his back, while the other softly reminded him of his rights. "I'm sorry, Duo."  
  
The young man's face melted into an innocent expression of affection, "S'alright, Miss Une. I'll be fine, don't worry about't. I dug this hole, now I hav'ta sit in it."  
  
The impish boy turned to his comrades and smiled. "Well, this's it!"  
  
The remaining three pilots stared at their comrade in disbelief. It struck them hard, as the boy turned and calmly left in the officer's custody, that they had never really know the boy they had called friend, comrade and ally.   
  
It didn't matter, either.   
  
In the whole world there was no other person who had stared down his gun time and again with that cheeky grin; who had shot him, then saved him and refused to give up trying to be his friend. Heero couldn't stand to watch him leave like that.  
  
Quatre was watching the scene as if it was actually a play. Not real, his mind wanted to insist. /There/ was the person who had him brought news of a missing loved one when the last of their hope was failing, gone out the door as if...he wasn't coming back. As Heero moved forward, Quatre followed.  
  
Wufei drew a jagged breath watching his comrades rush the door, he understood why, but for a moment he held back. That was the person who had shared a dark cell with him, slowly choking to death, and come out with a smile and vengeance, but how did he become so strong?  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
From the infirmary Trowa watched in sorrow as the boy walked out of the room. When he had played the traitor during the Mariemaia coup it was Duo that he faced and the boy had brushed away his apologies with that same smile. He silently cursed his friends for letting him leave, but one at a time, within a second of each other, they rushed the hall. Trowa couldn't see anything after that, but he let a few tears slip by before finally drifting into sleep.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"DUO!" Heero's voice was a recognition, command and apology all at once. The boy's escorts were pushed aside as the young man flung himself within an inch of his friend. Once there, he stared into the blue-violet eyes, not knowing what else to do. No more words could escape the tightness of his throat.  
  
Quatre was only a beat behind him, but he didn't stop. His arms encircled the boy in black before the boy could get out a single word. Quatre whispered in his ear for a moment, drew his face back, and held Duo's face in his hands. "You'll /always/ be my friend."  
  
The happy-go-lucky mask broke and Duo's mouth quivered, "I am really sorry, for everythin'! Oh, Cat!" He buried his face in the Arab's shirt collar while the blonde rubbed his back soothingly.  
  
"Maxwell?" The tear-reddened eyes blinked up to meet Wufei's coal black, slightly nervous gaze. The Chinese bowed deeply and added, "Thank you. For everything, you know, back then."  
  
"Oh, Fei-chan!" The boy lifted his arms forward (the handcuffs dangling from one wrist) and squashed the other in a tight embrace.  
  
"Shinigami! Omae o korosu!"  
  
"Stop stealing Heero's lines!" the boy laughed playfully until he met the cobalt blue gaze of the person he was 'defending'. His breathing became more difficult as he studied the familiar features of the boy who had at times tried to kill, hurt, and insult him. The boy was his best friend. "Heero."  
  
The Japanese boy winced. He took a step forward and awkwardly wrapped his arms around their betrayer. He whispered something softly into the boy's ear and pulled back to ghost a kiss upon the startled American's forehead.  
  
The boy stared blankly at the air in front of him for a moment before fixing his friend with his own death glare. "I do /not/ sound like Relena!"  
  
With his old smile and a nod to the officers who were /supposed/ to be escorting him, he walked off into the crowd. The officers shrugged and followed quickly, catching the handcuffs out of the air as the boy set off to face his consequences.  
  
********************************  
AN: Hope that made sense! I'm planning a companion piece of the /same/ time period, just a different perspective (all Anderson, that's why he's so lightly touched upon.)  
  
Please Review: theanonymous12000 @ yahoo.com 


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